


Alligator Blood

by nimrodcracker



Series: i'll sleep with the stars tonight [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Aromantic Shepard, Ashley-centric, Explicit Language, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3181778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimrodcracker/pseuds/nimrodcracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashley Williams and Hermina Shepard: from bristling antagonism to grudging, if not welcomed, friendship - but what does it truly mean?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alligator Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Bring Me The Horizon song of the same name.
> 
> Also, I subscribe to the Expanded Galaxy Mod's (EGM) explanation of Ashley's S1 rank on her dress-armour-suit-thingish. Aka, the S- designation refers to covert surveillance training. (also the mod is gr8 btw!)

That was her skipper.

The woman who'd always tried to tame her indigo-blue locks with a hairband, but those strands would _always_ find a way to break free. They'd fly all over her eyes in the slightest breeze, and Shepard would only huff in annoyance while trying to pat those errant strands into some semblance of order.

* * *

That was her skipper.

The woman who stormed in amidst a hail of gunfire with Wrex and Garrus on her heels, spitting laser and death from smoking barrels. Geth exploded in biotic flame and rigged tech detonations, roughly shoved away by the juggernaut of a trio who showed no mercy - not that the Geth offered it in kind.

By then, Ashley'd been too banged up defending the bomb to even see straight through her grimy visor. Gunfire and electronic chatter meant as little to her as the constant rumbling of the Normandy's drive core that lulled her to sleep every night - and just maybe, she heard Saren's taunts in his rough-hewn voice through the fog of pain that threatened to swallow her whole.

Feeling arms drag her up and away, giving direction to mindless limbs, Ashley felt that maybe, things finally worked out for a change. That the bomb was going off as planned, Saren and his flashlight heads were in heaps of smoking metal, and she was on a straight course to the infirmary.

Until she noticed the missing face, the empty locker and the loaded looks thrown her way, she believed that things were okay.

Until her fingers dragged across an empty space on the crew manifest - a space that used to hold _his_ name tag - she desperately wanted everything to be okay.

Now, she knew better than to hope for things to be okay.

==

" _Kaidan's_ the superior officer!"

"Alenko wasn't going to make it." Shepard was the spitting image of nonchalance, idly twirling a stirrer in a steaming mug. Poring over a datapad like nothing had happened, like she didn't leave Kaidan to die on that blasted rock.

"How would you know? You didn't give him a _chance_!" Anger - intense, searing heat burning right through her skin - made Ashley's words ring through the air, current after-hours be damned.

She told herself the vitriol had nothing to do with survivor's guilt, that she wasn't lashing out and using her commanding officer as a punching bag, that she wasn't grappling with the notion that it should've been _her_ . Definitely wasn't that, because Shepard's _apathy_ was responsible for fanning her anger.

Shepard barely glanced up from her reports, taking tiny sips from the blue mug in her hands. "Chief, explain to me the odds of escaping a geth-infested tower within 5 minutes."

 _Oh, for the love of-_ Something snapped in her, and Ashley's fist slammed against the nearest wall hard enough to make her teeth chatter and knuckles throb.

"Do you even _care_ , Shepard? Because you're acting as if Kaidan's just another number on your personnel sheet!"

Shepard stopped typing, fingers jerking to halt. Those same fingers soon tightened around the handle of the steaming mug before letting go, before Shepard herself stood and walked away with empty hands.

When Shepard stopped at Kaidan’s former tech station, Ashley turned away.

"Ever heard of Akuze, Chief?" Shepard uttered them so hollowly, sounding far wearier than Ashley thought possible - as if every word took more out of Shepard than the woman was prepared to give.

"Ma'am?" Ashley blinked - once, and then again. The bubbling anger simmered, and her nails stopped digging into her palm.

Something had changed, Ashley was certain. What used to be unsettling prickling skittering across her skin had grown into full-out stinging, as if the very air was charged.

"A bit? A thresher maw wiped out an entire unit, except for its CO. Last I heard, she was reinstated to active service as an XO," Ashley replied slowly. She was stunned at the sudden shift in conversation, mind sluggishly recalling bits and pieces of gossip from scuttlebut that had little relevance to the biting accusations she'd volleyed at her commander.

Shepard's proud shoulders slumped, and Ashley couldn't decide if she saw the stiff gait of her commander tremble. "Was I always captain of the Normandy, Williams?" Shepard breathed, in a voice so delicate that forced Ashley to step closer to the woman whose back was currently facing her.

The tinge of expectation in Shepard's voice heightened the niggling fear Ashley felt - that she was missing something big, failing to realise a truth that would make the floor fall out from under her feet.

Why would Shepard tell her this? She wouldn't go out of her way to spill out her past to anyone, _that's Shepard for you_ , unless....

Unless Shepard was at Akuze.

Suddenly, the hazy memory of everything on Ontarom made sense; why Toombs mentioned thresher maws out of nowhere, why Shepard had hurriedly walked out with Toombs in tow, and why Shepard’s normally inscrutable expression was pale and flushed on the shuttle back to the Normandy.

Ashley had hung around enough soldiers and medics to recognize trauma, and yet, she hadn't.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ say that I don't give two shits about leaving Kaidan to die, _Gunnery Chief_." Every word was hammered in with an accusatory jab of a finger on Ashley's chest, with enough venom dripping from Shepard's lips to make Ashley's toes curl in her boots.

Ashley didn't know how Shepard had crossed the distance between them so quickly but that didn't matter, not when she wanted to choke back every word she'd spat at her commander, watching Shepard storm out of the mess hall and back into her cabin.

She couldn't help but glance at the still-illuminated screen of Shepard's datapad in helplessness, but the words staring back at her only made her look away.

Ashley saw a collection of sentences forming no more than a paragraph, but they were enough to make the bile rise in her throat.

_Mr & Mrs Alenko, _

_Your son was a good man._

_I'm sorry_.

==

“Shepard. I..”

“Apology accepted.”

“That easy?”

“Williams, you were grieving. I get it. But do it again, Gunnery Chief, and I'll vent you out of the nearest airlock myself.”

“Aye aye.”

* * *

 That was her skipper.

A ghost from the past, a part of her life she thought she'd buried six foot under, but there she was, standing no more than an arm's length away from her.

The same mussed brown hair, the scars on her lips, the cheekbones that could sever tendons - if this was a clone, it was a _hellishly_ good copy, and that left chills breaking out all over Ashley’s skin.

Shepard coming back from the dead was something Ashley could learn to swallow, but as a _Cerberus_ lackey? It crushed the very ideals she held dear, squeezing her chest far tighter than she actually thought possible.

Ashley didn't think it could hurt this bad.  

" _Why_ , Shepard? Give me a reason that'll make everything sound perfectly believable."

"I had to do it, Williams," Shepard insisted. "You of all people should know that."

 _Because Hermina Shepard always did the right thing no matter the cost, right?_ Ashley couldn't believe what she heard. It had to be lies. All of it. It _had_ to be.

"It's _Cerberus_ , Shepard. Or have you forgotten Akuze?"

Shepard flinched imperceptibly, a reflex noticed only because Ashley was familiar with it. It was a gesture from a long time ago, a night when she felt she began to figure out the woman who called herself Hermina Shepard.

Evidently, that had changed, hadn't it?

"Williams. There was _no_ choice. If there was a better way, I'd have taken it."

If Ashley didn't know better, she would've thought that Shepard was _begging_ for her to understand.

But Hermina Shepard was a proud woman, and proud women didn't beg.

"Is that what you think, or what your Cerberus handlers want you to think?" Ashley spat, throwing her arms up in frustration. "Look, skipper. I don't know what to think anymore."

Shepard said nothing, and Ashley felt her heart clench painfully at the silence. She tried finding the words to fill the loaded silence, but nothing sounded right in her mind. Even the words of long-dead poets echoing into her mind couldn't offer anything but hollow comfort - comfort in knowing that she was still Operations Chief Ashley Madeline Williams, Alliance soldier till the death - and that knowledge jolted her numb legs into walking away from _her_.

"Ashley, wait." Something in Shepard's voice made Ashley turn against her better judgement. "I could use your help against the Collectors."

Pleading eyes met hers, the intense amber - wasn't it supposed to be _brown_? - of Shepard's gaze hypnotizing, but Ashley didn't look away. She was an Alliance marine till the last drop of blood in her veins, and _nothing_ could make her think otherwise.

"I'm sorry, Mia. This is one road to hell that I can't cross with you." There was only so much Ashley would do for her skipper, and this was one of those things that Ashley could never do in good conscience, not when she barely recognized the foundations of her self that she desperately clung to.

Ashley turned her back on a woman she didn't think alive for the second time in a span of a few minutes and walked, resisting the urge to look back with gritted teeth and shaking limbs. If she met Shepard's gaze again, she would be _lost_ , and everything she'd fought for would've been for nothing. It was already hard enough, striding away with her mind in flux, grappling with a truth that could change everything, but stepping away was what she did - _what she had to_ \- through sheer force of will.   

Hermina Shepard, ex-Commander in the Alliance Navy and now-Cerberus operative, never lied.

And Ashley didn't know what to think anymore.

==

From: Hermina Shepard (hermia-shep@normandy.pte.null)  
Sent: May 23, 2185 03:39 UT  
To: Ashley Williams (ashley.m.williams@horizon.mil.sa)  
  
Subject: Re: Hey there.  
  
Williams,  
  
You're not the one who's supposed to be apologising.  
  
Anyway, I'll be fine. You know that.

Shepard.

* * *

That was her skipper.

Pointing a battered Carnifex at her, asking to forsake the ground she stood on to take a plunge into the depths of what used to be.

Shepard was asking for trust again, but Ashley didn't know if she could, not after everything that had happened. Cerberus - the association, the past, the _stain_ \- loomed like a shadow, poisoning everything good she and Shepard could've - _had_ \- shared.

This time, it seemed like one of them wouldn't be walking out of this alive, because Ashley would _never_ yield. "Put the gun down, Shepard."

And neither would Shepard. "Williams, step away. Udina's the traitor," Shepard commanded, a hint of her customary drawl  slipping through. Was it arrogance at its finest, or bullish certainty in knowing that she was right?

Three of them faced her - Shepard, Garrus and Liara. Shepard held her Carnifex, Garrus his favourite Mantis rifle, while Liara wielded a crappy Phalanx. Ashley could take down Liara first, with a shot to th-  

"She's lying, Williams. _Shoot her_!" Udina cut in. Even his warning smacked of his usual condescension, but it shook Ashley back to her senses, and her eyes focused on the Carnifex pointed at her again.

" _Ashley_ ," Shepard snarled with narrowed brows, the name uttered more like a curse. "Drop your _fucking_ gun."  

Ashley's aim wavered slightly at the threat in Shepard's words, _but she would not yield_. Udina was her charge, and she wasn't about to let him die.

(It didn’t register that Shepard had called her by her first name.)

Here they were again, hurling barbs at each other like they used to back on Horizon, the memory a harsh sting in Ashley's chest. Somehow, it felt like those moments at Huerta never really happened.

"How am I supposed to know that you're not a Cerberus minion, Shepard?" Ashley said, pouring in all the hurt and annoyance and fury bubbling in her veins. Too many times had her trust and beliefs been shattered by this one woman, this force of nature that never had to do more than open her goddamn mouth. Ashley was sick of it, so _sick_ of being played the fool.

"Damn it, Williams, shoot her before she kills us all!" Desperation had crept into Udina's voice, and the ticking clock inside her mind grew ever louder.

Ashley was running out of time. Soon, Shepard would pull the trigger, and she would feel the blood seep out of her veins - running hot and sticky like the traitorous tears that fell hours after that meeting on Horizon - and then she would know no more. After all, Shepard always did the _right_ thing no matter the cost, right? No matter how many bodies stood between her and her objective, Hermina Shepard would take the high road and carry out the tasks demanded of her, consequences be damned.

Even if it killed her, Ashley would not yield.

 _Something_ compelled her to meet Shepard's gaze. It might've been idle curiousity, or the absurd belief that Shepard wasn't lying, but Ashley did it all the same.

"Have I ever lied to you?" Shepard said, barely carrying over the general din of the Citadel. It sounded patronising enough to make Ashley's anger flare up, but sense fortuitously returned with the dull throb of grudging acceptance.

Ashley hated it, _hated_ how Shepard threw those words around like a tug on a leash wrapped around her own neck. She hated how after everything, Shepard was _right_. Whatever Ashley believed to be true - that Udina had humanity's interests at heart, that he was simply misunderstood - had been methodically smashed to bits once again by the biotic in front of her. Whatever Udina’s motivations, aligning with Cerberus cast everything in murky doubt.

What else could she do now, except to gather up the shards that would cut her skin? She only hoped that her plunge into the abyss of lingering trust wasn't going to bite her in the ass. Again.

"No," Ashley conceded, unable to muster a retort. "You never have."

A scuffle broke out behind her, followed by the dull smack of metal on flesh. Ashley turned on her heel, eyes homing in on Udina through her pistol sights and index finger tensing to depress the trigger of her Paladin. Just as she aligned a clear shot, unhindered by Sparatus and Tevos - the latter clutching her head on the floor - a single gunshot bucked her aim and startled her.

Crimson painted Udina's white shirt in seconds, blossoming from a single entry wound in his chest. Slack-jawed, he clutched his shirt and dropped his holdout pistol, accusing eyes looking beyond Ashley's shoulder. A split-second passed, before he collapsed and gurgled his last.

Ashley lowered her pistol, checking the Paladin's heatsink in confusion. Three clips, a full magazine - she didn't shoot Udina. She whirled to face Shepard, noticing the smoking Carnifex and Shepard's lips set in a grim line, both of which confirming her suspicions.

The unspoken question must've shown on her face, because Shepard was already speaking. "No, Williams. His blood will _not_ be on your hands." Shepard shook her head. "I won't allow it."  

Her fellow Spectre glanced at her then, eyes blank yet calculating at the same time. That look was the last thing Ashley saw, before C-Sec personnel swarmed the area and came between them.

 _What the_ hell _was that, Shepard?_ Ashley couldn't believe the turnaround in behaviour, nor could she grasp the notion that she wasn't sprawled on the floor with a hole in her chest. As giddy as she was, reassured by the steady pounding in her chest, Shepard's choice of words nagged at her. They weren't the words of a psychopath, but it hadn't it been a remorseless soldier who'd demanded Ashley to lay down her gun?

Whatever it was, Ashley needed answers, and she would get them one way or another.

==

Ashley tapped her feet unfailingly, the _rat-tat-tat_ of her boots ringing in the enclosed space.

Shepard hadn't boarded the Normandy yet, because the woman signed into the Spectre system a mere fifteen minutes ago. Cybernetically-enhanced or no, the distance between the embassies and the docking bay took more than twenty minutes of travel, and the Commander preferred walking.

All that considered, if Ashley failed to find Shepard before she left, Ashley would kick herself. There was no knowing if Shepard would leave without her, and if Shepard did, contacting her via the extranet would be futile. Like, the woman hadn't bothered replying to Ashley’s emails, choosing instead turn up at Ashley's too  way past visiting hours at Huerta.

That begged the question. How had Shepard slipped past security?

The door hissed open. Shepard strode in with a takeaway cup of coffee in one hand, and the other tucked into the pocket of her N7 jacket.

Catching sight of Ashley, Shepard brightened. "Williams. Didn't think to find you here."

"Shepard,” Ashley replied, pushing herself from off the rails. “I wanted to catch you before you shipped out."

"How are you? You were still wrapped up in bandages the last time I dropped by.” Those amber eyes innocuously moved from Ashley's cheeks to other places previously covered in bandages - out of _concern_ \- yet Ashley's cheeks warmed at the scrutiny.

Ashley folded her arms hastily. "The room was suffocating. I had to leave."

"I can imagine. Can't just stand there, letting things happen."

" _Exactly,_ ” Ashley huffed. "Bandages or no, I had to protect the Council. But I can't believe it. Udina, working with Cerberus? He was a power-hungry dick, sure, but to stoop to this?" Ashley cringed as another thought flitted into her mind. "Was he _indoctrinated_ , Shepard?"

"Hard to say," Shepard admitted, turning to lean against the handrail. She gazed at the space traffic moving just on the other side of the window, and Ashley spotted a bandage peeking over the cowl of Shepard's hoodie. "Does it matter? The Council's safe, and we drove Cerberus into hiding for now. One less problem to worry about."

"It does! Shepard, I pulled a gun on you _because_ of him. Doesn't that bother you?"

Shepard shrugged, unperturbed at Ashley's outburst. "You were doing your job. I can respect that."

Shepard's indifference was unexpected, but nonetheless comforting, however effective it was in taking the sting off something Ashley couldn't forget.

"It doesn't change anything," Ashley bit out harshly, anger largely reserved for herself. "I can understand if you don't want me back on the Normandy. Hackett offered me a position, and I can always accept it."

A cushy job on the Crucible, seemingly prestigious, but was just a way out that Ashley was unwilling to take. There was simply too much history between her and the Normandy for her to just step away like she never cared at all.

But _she_ wasn't captain of the Normandy.

"Williams, if you think I'm letting you walk off like that, you're horribly mistaken." The challenge in Shepard's narrowed eyes dared Ashley to do otherwise, but it wasn't out of malice. Shepard simply expected the best, and had no qualms pushing her soldiers in order to get it.

Lesser beings would be quaking in their boots when faced with such a sight, but to Ashley, those razor-sharp words sliced open her skin in the _sweetest_ of ways.

"Hey, you know me. Nowhere better to ride this out than onboard the Normandy." Ashley stooped to grab her duffel bag by her legs and slung it on one shoulder. It took her a moment to adjust the hefty weight on her right, and she gave Shepard a nod when the strap didn't dig painfully into her shoulder.

"Glad to hear it, soldier." Shepard gestured to the outer door, and both of them walked out into the bay proper, the Normandy big and imposing in the empty docking bay.

The dull roar of ship engines were the only sounds punctuating the relative silence surrounding them, one that Ashley used sort the disquiet in her mind.

_You wanted answers, right? Shepard's right beside you._

But a minute of thinking dragged on to become five far too quickly, and Ashley gritted her teeth.

"Shepard, I...I need to ask. Back at the shuttle bay, during the coup, were you going to shoot me?

Shepard's eyes widened. "No."

"No?" Ashley found herself exhaling. "That's...that's good to hear."

They took a right turn, entering the tube-like walkway that connected to the Normandy's airlock via a steep staircase. "What makes you think I'd shoot you?" Shepard said with a crooked grin.

Ashley could think of countless reasons, but this wasn't the best time to spill them all. "Because I stood in the way?"

Shepard's snort was muffled by the slow shake of her head. "You weren't on my shit list. Only Udina was."

It was answers that Ashley sought through her questions, but those answers did little, instead unearthing more that stoked her curiousity. Given the palpable tension of their confrontation, it would've been elementary for Shepard to gun her down to reach Udina, but Shepard didn't. What happened to 'doing the right thing, and fuck the consequences?'

Confused, Ashley pursed her lips. Then there was the matter of Shepard's words to her. _I won't allow it_ . What _was_ going on in Shepard's head?

Shepard glanced at her, head tilted at an angle. "You're wondering why I didn't let you shoot Udina, aren't you?"

Ashley nodded absently. "I had him in my sights. Can't miss from that range."

"Ever thought about his death staining your record?" Shepard started counting with her fingers on her free hand. "Spectre Williams, second Human Spectre, holder of the Palladium Star and S1 graduate within a year. First official assignment is to guard Humanity's Councillor...but he's dead by the week."

"When you put it that way..."

"Makes you sound like a washout, which you aren't." Shepard tipped the last dregs of her coffee into her mouth and crushed the cup in her grasp, tossing it into a nearby bin.

Shepard was doing it again: getting her hero act together and pulling Ashley's ass out of the fire. When could the woman stop taking the heat for everyone else?

All Ashley could manage was a breathless, "Thanks."

"Don't sell yourself short, Williams. You're one of the finest soldiers I've met."

Glowing praise from her Commander was as rare as Councillor Sparatus withholding his scathing comments about humanity, so that made it more palatable to swallow. And maybe, Ashley could come to believe it someday.

The airlock finally came into view, after what seemed like eternity climbing the steep steps of the connector. With sweat beading on the back of her neck, she began tying up her hair.

Shepard reached for the airlock controls, but her hands stilled over the buttons. "Williams, wel-"

"Y’know, skipper, I never understood why you kept addressing me by my surname, even when I said you didn't have to. Call me Ashley. Or Ash. I figure we're past that, yeah?"

Shepard blinked once, then twice. "Suit yourself," Shepard recovered with a shrug. "Welcome to the Normandy, Lieutenant-Commander. And it’s good to have you back, Ash."

Ashley swore she heard Shepard pronounce her name far too tenderly for mere comrades, but then again, she could be mishearing things. Shepard was - as usual - an enigma.

But she'd like to think that Shepard was slowly letting her in.

* * *

That was her skipper.

A valkyrie, clothed in her characteristic black armour with striking red highlights; a banner, a standard, an ideal, sustaining the belief that everything could and would be alright.

Shepard was unstoppable - a silhouette bathed in blue darting from rock to rock, sidestepping both soldiers and laserfire to make her way towards the Reaper's light-tunnel to the Citadel. Marauders and Husks alike were smacked out of her way with biotic flame and devastating melee, as if they weighed nothing more than dust.

But Shepard was but one soldier, doggedly pushing on out of sheer stubbornness, and not because the Reapers could be blasted back into the hole they came from.

==

"Skipper, wait!" The dust scratched against her already-dry throat, but Ashley rasped out the words regardless. "Don't get yourself blown up, now. Someone needs to back me up with the Council's bullshit."

"You need to get to Chakwas, Ash. I'll be fine." Shepard faced her, brushing away her concern with a dismissive wave. Time was slipping from both their fingers like sand, so Ashley grasped Shepard's hand and pulled it close.

"You better _damn_ well be, Mia," Ashley insisted, choking the life out of her skipper's hand.

Shepard offered a strained smile, the hardness in her eyes melting - was that vulnerable _affection_? - but it did little to ease the roiling in Ashley's stomach.

Miraculously, Shepard didn't let go, cocking a little salute to the turian with her free hand. "I'll be waiting at the bar, Garrus. And Ash, the Normandy's yours."

Shepard's gaze lingered on Ashley's, the intensity of it reminding Ashley of pressing superheated brands on skin, but _God._ Shepard had did this before on Horizon, back when she was still with Cerberus; Ashley figured it was because Shepard thought she’d lost Ashley forever. Why was Shepard doing this now?

_Wait. Was Shepard saying goodbye?_

"It's always been you.” Shepard smiled, serene and unapologetic, and that was when Ashley felt her heart shatter completely.

Shepard pushed their clasped hands over Ashley's chest - over Ashley's _heart_ \- for a moment before sprinting away, barrelling into hell like she'd always been her whole life.

==

The Commander was a lone blur in the distance, so hauntingly familiar to a time long ago when a troopship flew out of the Citadel's docks and into the darkness of space. The man on that troopship never came back, except for a medal of service and his battered book of poetry in a sombre, black box.

And so, the Williams household had an empty seat at the dining table ever since.

Then, the vicious klaxon sounded. Harbinger swept its crimson laser in an arc across the sloping highway to the Conduit, and Hammer Squad exploded in a shower of flying debris. The galaxy's last hope was no more, just jagged pieces and melted metal scattered as far as Ashley could see.

The Normandy's cargo doors shut with a finality that set her teeth on edge, and Garrus said nothing. The turian just held her a little tighter with his claws digging into her armoured shoulder, hurting the bruised joint more than it already was.

It took seconds for the ship's floor to rumble in sync with the SR2's accelerating thrusters, and moments longer for both of them to take halting steps away from the doors, with Garrus as her makeshift crutch in their agonising walk to Chakwas' office.

Ashley felt weightless, her limbs kicking into action where her mind did not. She knew that because she saw the panicked and bloody faces of those flitting by in her vision, but they were silent. Silent only to the pounding in her ears, the faint buzzing in her head, and the words that had the turian's mandibles in a twist.

It didn't bother her, the silence. She'd spent too much time with her reticent Commander to be unnerved by it. She just hoped Garrus was fine with it too. After all, there wasn't any need to voice it.

Both of them knew all too well that Shepard never made promises she couldn't keep.

* * *

That was her skipper.

If nothing could be called something, that is.

An empty casket lay buried beneath the marbled gravestone, that much Ashley knew, but what else could the brass put up to show the galaxy?

She lowered her gaze. Laid in front of the gravestone was a flag, the stitched-on embroidery of the Alliance symbol standing out against the blue fabric. Blue like the clear sky above Mindoir's grasslands, blue like Ashley's stiff dress uniform that scratched against her skin.

And blue like the garish shade of dyed hair that Ashley could never see again.

The memorial service had long ended, crowds scattered and already returning to the city proper, including the crew of the Normandy who lingered later than most. There were speeches by the higher-ups, by both the military - Hackett, for one - and politicians who apparently knew Shepard from way back, but all of them venerated the wrong person.

Billions would remember the woman with the indigo-blue hair, a permanent sneer on her face and spitting on whatever the galaxy threw at her - be it Reapers, politicians, or even the odd reporter itching for an interview.

The Normandy would remember the woman with the chipped eyebrows, a hesitant smile beneath the scowls and the fearless hand-to-hand combatant that only James could match on the practice mat - if he stopped falling for his C.O.'s feints.

Ashley, however, would remember the woman with a debilitating martyr complex, grappling with the burden of command with lips stained with drink.

But years later, she doubted that many would remember the person beneath the titles and the platitudes, for that was not the way in a galaxy that needed heroes to look up to more than anything else.

==

_"Shepard's vital signs are erratic. I believe she's having another of her nightmares."_

_"Thanks, EDI. I'll wake her."_

Darkness. That was Shepard liked it, inky blackness in the Captain's cabin save for the blue glow of the fish tank that illuminated little beyond its walls.

Ashley stood on the threshold of the room, sluggish arms grasping the cold doorframe in support and eyes groggily adjusting to the light - or lack thereof. It was a ping on her omnitool that had brought her here, a ping she wished had come from the person in the cabin instead of the Normandy's resident AI.

She trudged into Shepard's cabin, hands reaching out for the walls to guide her steps in the dimness. Thank _God_ she wasn't wearing her boots, because she didn't think she could stand the noise of boots banging on the Normandy's metal floors at this time of the night. So here she was, dressed in slippers, fatigue bottoms and her Spectre hoodie to ward off the cold - unprofessional, but Spectres could get away with that.

The whimpers grew louder the closer she was to the bed, a sound she'd never hear her skipper make in front of others. _Weakness_ , Shepard would say, _something we're better off without_. But they were the words of a scarred soldier who knew nothing but loss and sacrifice, words from a person who couldn't be anything but stoic to keep the horrors from swallowing her completely.

In that regard, Ashley almost pitied the Commander, but if the three years since Eden Prime had proven anything, it was that Shepard hadn't been lost to ruthless calculus. That Shepard still knew the the value of individuals, the worth of life beyond the simple game of utility war had reduced it to. And that meant that despite the trauma and the night terrors, Shepard would get better, when all of this ended - Ashley would make sure of that.

Three years ago, Ashley would've laughed at herself for being so affected by her Commander. Three years wiser, Ashley knew what her past self didn't.

Shepard wasn't _just_ a comrade.

Drips of sweat lined Shepard's brow, those dark eyebrows seemingly furrowed in pain. Ashley crouched by the bed, a hand moving to brush the matted hair from the woman's damp forehead. It came away hot, and Shepard's headaches from a few days ago made sudden sense.

_Shepard's overworking herself again? Tell me about it._

"Mia," Ashley whispered, a hand grasping the woman's shoulder. "Wake up."

The next few seconds passed in a blur - one moment, Ashley was shaking her skipper awake, and in another, the sheets rustled and the whimpers stopped because Ashley found herself staring down the metallic barrel of Shepard's pistol.

Even in the dark, Ashley could make out the pair of twitching amber eyes boring right into her, their glowing intensity making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Shepard’s breaths came in ragged gasps, the Carnifex in her grasp unsteady. Like a wounded animal, fear radiated off Shepard in waves, and Ashley could taste it in the sterile air - thick and sharp like the jalapeños back in Macapa, but definitely not as sweet.

Deep down, Ashley wondered if she'd been lucky this time.

"Whoa, Skipper. It's just me," Ashley began slowly, waiting for the mania in Shepard's gaze to disappear and the haggard breathing to calm. "You were just having a nightmare."

A nightmare that had Shepard more than petrified, if the gun in Ashley's face meant anything.  

Five agonising heartbeats later, Ashley gently pulled the Carnifex out of Shepard's grasp, meeting little resistance from the unmoving woman. She placed the pistol by Shepard's bedside, before nudging the smaller woman to her feet. Just as she was about to sling Shepard's arm around her neck, Ashley felt a hand grab her arm.

"Williams. Let me _go_." Shepard may have woken up from a nightmare, but those hoarse words carried surprising authority, enough for Ashley to let Shepard's arm go out of sheer reflex.

She followed Shepard to the washroom, pausing only to flip the lightswitch near the fishtank. The sudden transition to brightness blinded her temporarily, and Ashley gingerly shielded her eyes with a palm while moving closer to the sounds of splashing water.

"Better?" Ashley ventured, relocating datapads and stacks of dossiers before  leaning herself against the edge of Shepard's desk. From her spot, she couldn't peep deeper into the bathroom, and for good reason. With what just happened, Ashley didn't want to crowd around her Commander. Personal demons had been named as such for a reason, after all.

The sound of running water ceased with the creak of metal, and Shepard's voice rang out less raspier than before. "Yeah."

"Shepard, talk to me. No way in hell you're feeling fine right now."

Ashley thought Shepard didn't catch that, what with the pause that stretched longer than a couple of seconds, but the choked-out reply squeezed the breath from Ashley's lungs.

"Virmire."

One word, and it was enough. Like a scab, it was better left alone - unpicked, and hidden from plain sight. Those days when Kaidan visited Ashley in her sleep, she always spent her mornings scrubbing her skin raw, convinced of the blood that had to be there.

Shepard’s footsteps rudely cut through her thoughts, and Ashley looked up to see her exiting the washroom. It was only for a split-second, but it was long enough for the light to highlight the dark circles and the skin stretched over Shepard's prominent cheekbones.

In short, Shepard looked like shit.

"Hey, you know I'm always an omnitool ping away, right?" Ashley blurted out.

"I know. Doesn't mean I have to take you up on your offer." Shepard didn't stop walking.

Scoffing, Ashley rose to follow. "Skipper, you're insufferable."

"Only because I'm _your_ Skipper."

"Smartass." Ashley's mouth opened in yawn then, the weariness in her bones overwhelming her senses. Her footsteps ceased on the threshold of Shepard's living area.

It took her a while to realise the silence that had settled between them, and a while more to notice Shepard standing still at the foot of the bed with her back towards her. Suddenly, nibbles of discomfort ate away at Ashley's senses, for reasons beyond her reach.

Leaving sounded like an excellent idea. "Skipper, I-"

"Ash," Shepard interrupted, head tilted to a side. "Stay?"

"And recite Tennyson till you fall asleep? Skipper, you needn't have asked," Ashley countered smoothly despite the Krogan-sized lump in her throat. Shepard's words had thrown her for a loop, and she'd never felt as unsure of herself in a long time.

Shepard turned then, one hand gesturing at the couch, face oddly vacant despite her lighthearted reply. "Stuff it, Williams."

Ashley flopped on the couch, not bothering to smother the laughter on her lips. "Aw, Mia, I know you've been reading poetry. Don't bother hiding it."

"Not just in English. My native tongue, too."

"By Rumi? I saw his works on the bookshelves downstairs." Her eyes trailed Shepard's motions, watching the woman sidle towards the nearby desk and pull out two glass bottles from a side drawer.

Ashley clicked her tongue in disapproval, giving Shepard the best admonishing look she could muster as her commander padded back to the couch. Already, the scent of roots and warm vanilla suffused her nostrils.

"Close, but I’m not Arab. It’s _Sejarah Melayu_. One tier down, and closer to the bookend. And-" Shepard winked while popping the caps off both with her biotics "-don't tell Chakwas about my cache. She'll have a fit."

Smirking, Ashley accepted the frothing bottle and gulped down a fair bit of liquid. As always, Shepard's spiced root beer burnt right through her system - sending welcome tendrils of warmth that settled in her belly, chasing the fog of drowsiness from her mind.

"Remind me to swing by more often, skipper. This stuff is _heavenly_."

Beside her, Shepard was silent, swirling her bottle with forehead pinched in thought.

"Shepard, you don't always have to be the galaxy's Hero Lady." Ashley paused to admire the bottle's label. _Guaranteed: a fizzle fest._ "It won't kill to be Hermina Shepard for a while."

"Someone has to do it. You know that as well as I do." The blankness in Shepard's gaze remained, eyes watching the swirling amber liquid in rapt attention; seeing, yet unseeing.

 _How long more before you snap, Mia?_ "Not if you go loco first, Skipper."

A breath left Shepard's pursed lips, and the shot glass was emptied thereafter. "Yes, _Mother,_ " Shepard drawled, dragging out the syllables with a sneer.

That word was enough to set off alarm bells in Ashley's mind, because Shepard _never_ talked about Mindoir, _never_ mentioned the Batarian slavers from her youth or spoke about the blazing inferno in her amber eyes when she thought no one was looking.

A word candidly mentioned, but a word that belied its significance nonetheless - and Ashley was at a loss to respond.

But three years on, Ashley needed to know. "Shepard, has it always been the guilt? The feeling that-"

"You could've done something more to stop it?" Shepard sighed, nodding slightly. "I'm sick of adding more to the ones that I already drag around with me." She picked up a bottlecap on the table with her free hand, before twirling it around her fingers. "But thanks for asking."

"Wait...you mean _nobody_ asks if you're doing okay?"

"They see Commander Shepard whenever they look at me." Shepard squeezed a bottlecap in her fist, before flinging it at the armoury closet. "Of course, when Commander Shepard killed Saren, wiped out the Collectors and ended Quarian-Geth hostilities for good, who wouldn't? The _Commander_ can't be anything but flawless to do that, right?"

Shepard rubbed her eyes tiredly, her next words lacking the bitterness of before. "Yes, they ask. They just don't listen. So I stopped telling. Except to you."

"Gotta admit, you sure know how to make a girl feel special."

"Because I knew you'd understand. Not everyone gets the opportunity."

 _To lose your whole unit and survive._ Already, there was a lump in her throat, and Ashley swallowed it. No time for dead comrades, not now, not ever.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence - much to Ashley's relief - interspersed with the occasional clink of glass on metal. As the minutes passed, their bottles gradually emptied too, weighing lighter with every swig - something Ashley was glad to do than dwell on the pregnant silence that Shepard had wrapped around herself. Given all that had transpired, it was undemanding quietness that Shepard wanted - _needed_ , perhaps - and simple companionship was what Ashley could offer.

"Ash?"

Ashley almost missed Shepard's soft whisper, lost in thought herself. "Mia?"

"It's been three years, hasn't it?"

"Skipper, is it me or do you sound really sentimental?" Ashley quipped, unable to resist the urge to lighten the situation. But the stinging glare sent her way irrevocably dried up her well of barbs, so Ashley sagged deeper into the soft cushion. "Yeah, I can't believe it too. Eden Prime seems like a century ago."

Another gulp of root beer, and Shepard blew out a harsh breath through gritted teeth. "Shitty three years. Wouldn't wish it on anyone."

"That bad, huh? Look on the bright side, Skipper. At least you're still kickin' Reaper ass."

Shepard hummed. "Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine."

Out of the corner of her eye, Ashley noticed the discomfort that had settled in Shepard's gaze. Normally, she would've been worried, but this time, she knew that Shepard was just struggling to piece together a sentence, one that _surely_ had to involve some degree of sentimentality. Nothing else left Shepard that tongue-tied.

True enough, Shepard reluctantly met Ashley's gaze. "Ash, I- I never did thank you, did I? You've always pulled me back from the brink, and not once have I thanked you for it." Shepard swallowed, throat bobbing. "I'm glad you're here. Glad to call you a...friend."

"I'll always have your back, Mia," Ashley grinned. It was probably the root beer, she surmised, that had loosened Shepard's tongue enough for that reticent woman to finally _be_ Hermina Shepard for a while, instead of the Commander Shepard with a stick up her ass. Still, seeing the hesitant smile flicker across Shepard's typically dour expression was something Ashley would never trade for anything else in the galaxy.

It had to be the sugar. Sugar made everything sweet. Even someone as sour as Shepard.

"Good." Shepard looked away, and that was that.

There was a point when Shepard sunk into the couch after words between them ceased, when their bottles of root beer had been all but drained and left forgotten on the little table. And without drink, Ashley couldn't stave off the creeping fog of sleepiness anymore.

Her omnitool display showed 0336, flickering numbers brought to the fore with a flick of her wrist. Well into the night cycle, and high time for her to slide back into her bunk. She was a Spectre, sure, but she was also the Normandy's Marine Officer - and that meant duties in the morning, least of which being inspecting the troops and the armoury.

"Shepard, I-" Ashley began, only to stop after taking in the steady rise and fall of Shepard's chest, as well as the shut eyelids.

Smiling softly at the sight, Ashley rose to leave, until a whimper caught her attention just as the doors _whoosed_ open.

Ashley did a simple once-over, noticing Shepard's pained expression, a light sheen of sweat and the clear fidgeting - all of which spelled the beginnings of another nightmare.

In that instant, Ashley made a decision, one that she'd certainly regret in the morning, but _damn_ the consequences. _Damn_ Hermina Shepard, the sleeping woman Ashley had now carefully manoeuvred to have her head resting on her lap. _Damn_ Hermina Shepard, the woman whose indigo-blue locks she now gently stroked, the only comfort Ashley could give to scare off the nightmares. _Damn_ Hermina Shepard, the woman who deserved better than to shoulder the burdens of so many, yet be ignored and derided by those who should've known better.

And _damn_ Hermina Shepard, the woman who wouldn't hesitate to punch Ashley black and blue at the training mat or warp her into minuscule shards of flesh if she found herself waking up with her head on Ashley's lap. Still, it would be a beating Ashley would endure without a grumble or a groan, because if her staying near Shepard throughout the night would make her skipper sleep properly for one night, it was a pummelling worth every bruise and blister.

Why couldn't her skipper stop pushing people away? It was no secret that Shepard's nightmares were the reason why the crew found her roughing up the punching bag in the gym deep into night cycle, even since the SR1. Yet, no one saw fit to do anything, either too fearful of the Commander or simply preoccupied. And after Thessia, Ashley couldn't stand by anymore and watch Shepard destroy herself in the littlest of ways, especially when her skipper had most of the crew and the galaxy hooked on the illusion of confidence and steely calm.

"EDI, could you dim the lights please?"

"Anything else, Lieutenant-Commander?"

"Don't tell Chakwas about Shepard's stash of root beer."

"Unfortunately, the Doctor is already aware. She merely chose to say nothing. I believe she mentioned how she would rather the Commander overindulge on sugary beverages than other addictive substances."

"...fair point, EDI. But thanks."

The hologram by the door vanished with a click, and the room was as dark as Ashley found it a couple of hours before.

Miraculously, Shepard didn't stir despite Ashley's ministrations, considering how the woman had pulled a gun on Ashley in a split-second at the slightest of touches.

In sleep, Shepard resembled a completely different person. The hard lines of anger and lips curled too often in a sneer were missing, replaced by an expression that almost looked peaceful - vulnerable, even, and t _his_ look suited Shepard. Whoever thought that Shepard could be so unlike the clinical killer who eviscerated Cerberus personnel and Reaper troops without hesitation?

Shifting limbs interrupted Ashley's thoughts as Shepard curled deeper into herself with naught a sound.

If Shepard ever had a significant other, it wouldn't be a person. It would be loss and death, with the bodies trailing far back into her past.

Too often, Ashley wondered how Shepard held herself together. How Shepard could still walk in spite of the blood on her hands and all over her face, yet still find it within herself to carry on instead of keeling over.

One thing led to another, and Ashley found herself slipping into a familiar, dark place filled with the blackest of thoughts; the kind that stilled her hands and sent the blood racing in her veins.

Ashley fell asleep eventually, her tired body submitting to the lethargy like a drunkard to drink, but not without the chilling realisation ringing an incessant melody in her ears.

It could've easily been her lying comatose on Shepard's lap, if fate had decided otherwise.

==

Why couldn't there any other way?

Shepard deserved the quiet, little ranch on some farming colony she wanted, giving both breathing space and the chance to finally escape from the never-ending carnage that had stalked her footsteps since the age of sixteen.

Shepard didn't deserve to die, not even as a martyr; the one activating the Crucible to quash the Reaper threat forever, but unable to escape the Citadel's subsequent explosion. The fact that it resembled the way she died the first time was just another hammer blow from the cruelest of ironies. Shepard died saving Joker the first time, but this time, she died saving the galaxy.

Sometimes, Ashley wondered if the galaxy even deserved Hermina Shepard.

The bouquet weighed close to zilch in Ashley's hands, stalks still damp from picking. Carefully, she laid the flowers on the draped flag, the colour of the petals matching the warm hues of the Mindoir sunset.

Shepard liked marigolds, the ones with petals as red as the sun, and those would be the only flowers Ashley would dare lay on her skipper's grave. Five of them in a bunch, plucked from the fields just north of the cemetery the Shepards laid peacefully in.  

Five graves now became six, and where it all began, it would end too.  

Ashley was glad there was a blustery breeze blowing in the waning hours of sunlight, as it turned her hot and stuffy dress blues into a warm, comfy overcoat in the cold. When the wind died down, she stood and raised her voice in the deserted cemetery. "Corporal Toombs, you can come out now."

A man ghosted out from behind the shadow of a nearby oak tree, clad in the drab but sturdy body armor commonly worn in the Terminus Systems. His features were rougher than the wide-eyed soldier she'd met back on Ontarom, but it was the same square jaw and well-trimmed beard that Ashley couldn't picture on someone else even if she tried. "Corporal no more, miss. I lost that right after I formed a merc band."

"You could've picked a better time to visit if you wanted to avoid the Alliance."

"Alliance pissbags won't stop me from sending off my Commander. Anyway, being forced labour in the eezo mines of the Terminus don't scare me," he declared while rummaging in his pack, before fishing out a stalk of red marigold.

"After what Cerberus did to me, nothing does," Toombs grimaced, staring into space. He held the stalk out in front of his chest with both hands, quietly gazing from the flower to the headstone. Then, he glanced at Ashley, eyes seemingly requesting silent permission and she nodded.

His chest heaved with a deep breath, before the words came tumbling out in a rush. "Shepard, you crazy blighter. Your eyes freaked me out, and half the time I had no idea if you were joking or serious about everything you said, because you're either freezing cold or scaldingly furious and never in-between."

"But fuck, you just had to go out in a blaze of glory, eh, like the self-sacrificing hero you are. I don't know how fucked the galaxy would've been if the thresher maw ate you instead of me, but I sure as hell ain't wanna think about it."

"Why you, Shepard? Why do you always have to take one for the team? Now that you've blown yourself up, I can't...I can't thank you at all. For not letting me kill Dr Wayne. The old fart had it coming, but if I shot him, I'd be no better than him. Never realised that until I woke up the other day, suddenly sick of shooting Cerberus fucks in revenge." Toombs looked away, choosing to face the darkening sky. With the flower clutched close to his chest, he didn't look like the merc who'd been gunning down abominations - both organic and inorganic. In the half-light, he was but a child, grasping and grappling for inadequate words that wouldn't do justice to the person who'd pulled him out of the depths.

"Shepard. I'm going to rejoin the Alliance. Teach a few kids, kill a few pirates, piss off a few superiors. You've always said I had a knack at making people listen, right? I'm going to make you proud. I'm going to make you wish you hadn't died."  

The man sniffled once, wiping his face on his sleeve before adding his marigold to the bunch already spread out on the flag.

"Bye, Commander Prickly. You never said much, but you said enough."

In a moment of stunning clarity, Ashley realised that Shepard hadn't really died. Her skipper still lingered, as the sparks of determination and  flickers of personal brilliance - and everything good - in the people she crossed paths with when she still drew breath. And as long as they did the best they could, Shepard would never die.

"You gonna stand there all night, miss?"

Slowly, she came to her senses. Slowly, she realised the creeping nightfall that had all but smothered the light of day. "No. I'm heading back to Shep-” _ouch_ "-my ship. Crew's waiting for me." She allowed herself a few more seconds, etching the inscription on the marble into her mind.

Toombs had already walked some distance away. "Well, hurry up already. I can hear the wolves howling in the distance."

Maybe there wasn't just any other way, Ashley thought to herself. Heroes died young, and there was no way about it - not when Shepard was forced to right the wrongs of so many before her. Perhaps she already knew, from the moment the Reapers blotted out the sky on Earth, when the Reapers poured into the known galaxy through the mass relays, that this was a war she couldn't survive.

And death, in a blaze of glory, would've been the perfect goodbye for a woman who never bothered with inane _hello_ ’s.

Ashley clicked her boot heels together, snapping her right hand in a final salute to honour the woman who dared, where nobody else did. "Boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell," she murmured, before standing at ease.

That was Shepard's favourite quote from Tennyson's, a quote she found scratched onto the rubber stock of the woman's Carnifex, but that was a quote too fanciful for the epitaph etched on the headstone for a woman who said little but meant more.

They'd decided on those eight words almost instantaneously, the four of them - her, Liara, Garrus and Tali - having known Shepard since the beginning, and it was those words her lips were curled around as she walked away with her hands tucked into the pockets of her pants.

It sounded like a rallying cry, an undeniable truth, and it was just that - a summation of the person Shepard was. Frank and plain, just like how Shepard liked it.  

She died, so no one else had to.  

**Author's Note:**

>  _let's play a game of russian roulette_  
>  _i'll load the gun_  
>  _you place the bets_  
>  _tell me who will make it out alive_  
>  ([~](https://youtu.be/UWmNsHDdWFU))  
> 


End file.
